The Northmen
by crypticxmetaphor
Summary: Modern Gang AU. Series of drabbels of Ivar and my OC Signe Flokisdóttr. The Northmen and the Saxons are two rival gangs run by the Ragnarssons and House of Wessex, respectively. Signe, still in high school, has to deal with typical teen drama, the challenges of falling in love, and the consequences of gang life.
1. Preface

Hi guys! So just a few notes about this story. I will be using the proper Old Norse spellings of names and not the anglicized versions they use in the show. IE Ívarr, Hvítserkr, Sigurðr, etc.

Also in the Saga, Ragnarr's sons are Eirekr and then Agnarr by his first wife Þóra. Then with Áslaug he has Ívarr, Björn, Hvítserkr, and then Rögnvaldr, and lastly Sigurðr.

I will be keeping with the TV show's lineage of Björn as a half brother and the eldest and Ívarr as the youngest and Ubbe as the first of Áslaug's sons. Eirekr, Agnarr, and Rögnvaldr will instead be other members of the Northmen gang.

Also in this AU Ragnarr and Áslaug are already deceased, but Helga is still alive and well.


	2. Chapter 1

Signe was unable to express how grateful she was that Ívarr was driving her to school. She thought wearing his flannel would lessen her nerves, but the plan had failed. Even her mom had said she looked cute in it with just tights and boots, but that ego boost wasn't enough.

When she climbed into Ívarr's truck, his eyes narrowed. "I've been looking for that shirt."

She shrugged. "I think it looks better on me."

"Of course it does, but I still like it," he grumbled.

"How about I trade it for another one after school today? Maybe for your hoodie?"

As promised, after school, the flannel was returned to Ívarr in the form of being carelessly thrown onto his floor. Signe rolled out of his bed and opened his dresser drawer as if it were her own and pulled out a long-sleeved t-shirt which she pulled over her head before settling back into Ívarr's side.

"You know, princess, if we moved in together you could take my clothes all the time and I wouldn't have to wait a month to get them back," he said with his arm wrapped around her shoulders and his hand running through her hair.

With her hand and her cheek against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat, she couldn't help but drift off to sleep. He tried not to shift as he moved the duvet to cover her bare ass and his own legs – those hideous and broken, scrawny legs. He wondered how much effort Signe had to put into ignoring them when they fucked.

She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she heard Ívarr wishing her a good morning. "Ah, fuck, I'm sorry. How long was I asleep for?"

"Not long; it's almost dinner time," he answered.

She cursed again and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to redress.

"You don't have to go," he frowned.

"Yeah, I do, Mom's cooking tonight," she explained. "Are you coming?"

He snorted. "As if I'd ever miss a chance to eat Helga's food," he said, pulling on his own pants.

"Oh, and don't wear the flannel," Signe said. "Helga thought I was very fashionable wearing it this morning so she'll definitely notice."

"It was a good look."

Ívarr was in awe – Signe managed to look put together in that way that looked so effortless, even after he had fucked her until she cried. He looked away, pretending to look for his keys in an attempt to not get turned on again.

She was in his truck, nearly half out the window, enjoying a face full of wind. He glanced over and noticed a red spot at the base of her neck. He reached out and gently ran his thumb over it. "You didn't hide it?" He thought they had agreed to not tell her parents she spent nearly all of her free time with his cock inside of her.

She shrugged. "I've gotten tired of it. Don't worry, I've come home with your hickeys before and they haven't said anything."


	3. Chapter 2

_What the fuck did she think she was doing in that tiny, little shirt? Didn't she see how all he guys were looking at her as if she might be theirs tonight? _Ívarr teetered over to her. He noticed her smile and wanted to smile back, maybe kiss her, tell her how beautiful she looked. But that's not what came out. "What are you wearing?" he demanded.

Immediately, her face fell. "I – I thought I looked good."

Ívarr sighed. "That's not – I – of course, you look good – you're stunning." Her smiled returned and Ivar let out a sigh of relief; he hadn't fucked up too badly. "Come on, how about a drink?" He draped his arm over her shoulders and guided her to the kitchen where the kegs had been set up.

"Signe!" Hvítserkr called with a whistle: "Looking good!"

Ívarr pulled her tighter against him and she giggled: "Oh! You're jealous."

Ívarr frowned. "What? No!"

"Yes, you are," she smiled. "You like me dressed like this, but you can't stand that other people can see me too." When he didn't respond, Signe stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "No one is going to take me from you," she said so only he could hear.

The thing Ívarr hated most was that he couldn't dance. Signe loved it and was great at it and he enjoyed watching her, but sometimes, like now, he worried about how they would dance at their wedding if she agreed to marry him. Other times, like now, he was glad that as these parties devolved as the night went on, there was less dancing and more grinding. Ívarr stood, leaning on his crutch and with his right hand on Signe's hips as she ground into him and he tried not to moan.

In her left hand, Signe held a bottle and her right hand rested on Ívarr's as she swayed to the music. She leaned back against him, enjoying the feeling of his hard-on pressed against her ass. She tried not to moan and wondered how long they would move like this until Ívarr had had enough and pushed her into his bedroom.

As she leaned back, he instinctively leaned forward and kissed the shell of her ear, momentarily forgetting himself. It was fine that they danced like this – everyone knew they were close friends who often flirted and toed that line of "just friends." It was important, though, that they never did anything which might suggest they had ever taken it further.

"Go to my room," he growled. "I'll be right behind you."


	4. Chapter 3

The two had grown up together and Signe noticed as soon as she stopped believing in cooties, that Ívarr was not only extremely smart, but extremely handsome. Though it wasn't until her sixteenth birthday that Ívarr realized his feelings for Signe were no longer just that of a friend. Everyone in the gang earned their place, proved themselves. She had done her time as a prospect, now she was old enough to become a full-fledged member. And as she took hits from friends and family, Ívarr thought he was going to vomit. He made sure to stay far enough away that he wouldn't be tempted to interfere, but knowing what was happening was painful enough.

When she came into the house with cuts on her face, a swollen eye, and busted lip, Ívarr wanted to cry. He fetched the First Aid kit and sat down beside her.

"Get off me," she hissed and shoved him away when he tried to clean the blood.

"Come on, Signe, you need to be cleaned up," he tried again.

"You don't get to touch me," she frowned. "You're not my friend."

"Don't say that," his voice wavered and he cursed himself for sounded so pathetic.

Signe scoffed to hide her tears. This was a huge step in her life. It was literally a rite of passage and the one person she wanted to be involved was Ívarr. "Then where were you? Your brothers were there. The whole fucking chapter of the gang was there."

"I couldn't! I could never hurt you!"

She scoffed again. "Why because I couldn't take it? It's part of being in a gang, Ívarr. You went through it two years ago and you just showed to everyone you don't think I'm your equal. You know what? Get the fuck out of my house."

"Signe come on; you know that's not true," he begged.

"Do I?" she hissed. "You say one thing and then your actions say something else." She swiped the First Aid kit from him and marched to her bedroom. "Don't be here when I come back out," she called. As soon as her bedroom door shut, she burst into tears complete with ugly sobs that racked her whole body.

Ívarr showed up to Helga and Floki's the next morning despite it being a Saturday.

It was Signe who opened the door, just as he expected, since they were usually both in the garage on weekends. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he said. Perhaps he should have brought flowers.

She snorted and walked away, but didn't shut the door.

Ívarr took the opportunity to let himself in and followed her. "You have to believe me when I say I never meant to hurt you. I get I was being cowardly and selfish, but I just, I couldn't cause you harm."

"Why? Why do I have to believe you?" she spat as she spun sharply on her heel and found Ívarr much closer than she was expecting.

His response was to press his lips to hers with such force, she stumbled backwards, but by holding onto the lapels of his coat, she pulled herself forward, closer to him as she kissed back. When they broke apart to catch their breath, he touched his forehead to hers. "Don't ever think I think of you as less – you're everything."

Unable to find the words to respond; Signe kissed him again.


	5. Chapter 4

Signe shed her jacket as she crossed Þórsgata**; **the only way home from school was through enemy territory and still her dad would not allow her a car. Today, rules were not enough. She noticed a group of boys, Saxons, following her. One or two would have been fine, but she had counted three following Beocca**, **the ringleader of this group, though not their chieftain. She picked up her pace, but did not give them the satisfaction of running. They clearly jut wanted to scare her and all she needed to do was make it back into Danelaw. But the Saxons were gaining ground and she began to worry if they caught her, they may actually hurt her regardless of what part of town they were in. So when she reached Wessex Diner, she ducked inside and slipped into a booth. Even Beocaa wasn't dumb enough to try anything in a neutral establishment full of witnesses.

A waitress immediately came over to Signe with a menu and a place setting. Signe gratefully accepted and pretended to read it when the Saxons entered and claimed their own seats three booths down. When the waitress returned, Ruth according to her name tag, Signe ordered a chocolate shake and fries and then texted Ívarr about her plight, deciding if he didn't answer soon she would call, but she didn't want to draw attention to the situation. Her jacket remained folded in the booth beside her so to onlookers she appeared innocent of any gang-activity as the neighborhood watch would call it.

Almost immediately, she received a reply text from Ívarr: On our way. Sit tight.

Ruth delivered Signe's food and she ate as slowly as she could manage without letting her shake melt. As she was fishing around the basket for the pieces of fries that were left – the overcooked bits she normally wouldn't bother with – Ívarr walked in followed by Hvítserkr, Sigurðr, and Ubba. They sat down in the booth with her and beckoned over a waitress.

"What are you doing?" Signe raised her eyebrows. She was anxious to leave and get home.

"We're hungry," Hvítserkr said.

"Yeah, we came all this way here – I want a burger," Sigurðr backed him up.

Signe sighed. "So while you're sitting here eating, they can do what I did and call for backup."

"We'll get it for take-away," Ívarr said as he rubbed her back reassuringly. "Besides, that's why we brought him."

The entrance bell rang on cue and Signe looked up, making eye contact with Ívarr's half- brotherBjörn járnsíða.

"You need to cool it on the roads," he reprimanded his brothers. "One day you're gonna get pulled over and brought in for reckless endangerment."

"Signe needed us!" Ívarr protested.

"I'm sure you'll be a real help to her riding in the back of a cop car for doing 160 in a 64."

"Björn, we all know you're not the responsible one – that's Ubbe," Hvítserkr said. "So sit down and order some food."

They shifted over, but three brothers on one side of the booth didn't quite fit and Signe couldn´t help laughing at them. In fact, it was comical enough to see Sigurðr with his shoulders at his ears and Björn still with a leg in the aisle that she momentarily forgot about the Saxons until she saw them all exiting the diner, grumbling. It seemed Björn's presence was enough to counteract the Saxons' threat.


End file.
